


Stomach Me

by fortuitousauthor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Affection, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Image, Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nervousness, Porn With Plot, Roommates, Rough Kissing, To Be Edited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:15:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23425360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortuitousauthor/pseuds/fortuitousauthor
Summary: Draco and Harry have a falling out, then a falling in.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	Stomach Me

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in years! Quarantine is stirring up a lot of things. Totally down for constructive criticism.

Draco's wand clattered on the pine as he swiftly unbuttoned his top collar. His cloak whistled as it fell, and created a pool around his feet as he kicked off his dress shoes. 

"Long day at work?"

"Yeah. You could say that." He said, twisting the corners of his mouth as his hands fumbled at the top shirt buttons. 

He lurched forward toward Harry, sitting on the couch, Quibbler in hand, feet up, looking at him quizzically. 

"I can't believe you read tha- Sorry. I don't mean to-" Draco said as he sat beside Harry, who laid his reading gently aside. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about that, just- could you-" his hand rested on Harry's head, rubbing his thumb to drag a stray curl aside. Harry gazed upward, confused by the sudden rush of Draco. His brow twitched. "I've got you."

Harry drew his arms up Draco's back, drawing him into a twisted embrace on the couch. Draco returned the gesture, tucking his head into the crook of his arm. God, he wanted to touch him. He could imagine it, pressing his lips into his skin, how awkward and beautiful it would feel. The tiny bumps raised on his skin from the cool air. How smooth and organic it would feel, desperate. He didn't dare breathe nor move an inch. 

"Are you okay?" Harry repeated. 

"Yeah, no, just tired."

"It's always more than just tired."

"Well it isn't this time, I jus-" Draco moved. Harry pursed his lips, and bit the bottom one. His arm drew up Harry's ribcage, lingering on his stomach. It was too close. Too damn close and he could feel where Harry's shirt was riding up from sitting this awkwardly, and if he just pretended his hand slipped, he could touch the tiny hairs there but that would be too much, tiny follicles and glands and then he'd be kissing him and kissing him and he'd want more and-- 

That wasn't okay, he reminded himself. They were friends. His hand moved upwards, narrowly avoiding the more sensitive areas of his chest, and caught Harry's arm, stroking it softly with his fingertips. 

Draco wanted to break something, vaguely. Perhaps a nice vase. Or a teacup. Something with a nice, tinkling crash. Glass shattered. He did not break anything. 

As Draco stroked his arm, Harry looked past Draco, then back in his eyes. "I-"

"What?" Draco snapped nervously, quietly correcting himself. "Sorry, I mean- what would you like to say" he painfully pressed out, word by word. 

"Can you get off of-" 

Draco lept off of him, rebuttoning his shirt's collar, saying "yes, yeah, sorry, I should have asked before- yeah."

Harry slowly stood, then turned the corner to the kitchen, grabbing the kettle and putting it on, selecting some tea from the cabinet. As turned on the stove, "muggle stove," Draco thought to himself, he turned toward the spices, avoiding Draco's eye. 

"So I-"

"Yeah?" Draco rubbed his pinkie nail.

"So. I wanted to tell you, but I- I don't know, felt bad? About it? And I wanted to, I promise, but-"

"What is it?"

"I've been really uncomfortable with physical affection lately, and it's not your fault, but I- I know we're best mates now, y'know coming together and commiserating," Harry laughed suddenly, loudly. "After the war, and I'm so glad," he gestured with his hands, swinging them down, "that you-" he sliced his hand between them, gesturing to them. Together. "And I- we- we're close now. And that's amazing, I never thought that would happen again." 

"He looked directly into Draco's eyes. Draco steadied his jaw and drew in a breath that was too shallow. So, this was about affection. How he didn't want any. From him. Draco knew that Harry wasn't lying, that it wasn't because of Draco, but Draco knew, deep down, that it had to be. He and Hermione laid about, in his bed, Merlin's sakes, and read books, and did whatever nonsense that friends did. Draco wasn't entirely sure what friends did, but that was beside the point. Here Harry was, denying the affection that Draco had worked so hard for, tirelessly, to provide for Harry. He wanted to open up for Harry, and it was damn hard. He felt like every time he said something honest, he was drunk, and a bit too aware at the same time. Like his ribcage was being ripped open and he wanted it to and butterflies and flowers and bloody organs spilled over the tile as he told Harry how he took his tea. And he did it again and again, touching Harry, and his hair, and his arms, and cuddling his him- damn the word- and Harry just spilled over into his existence, talking about how he was beautiful and had a nice laugh and that his hair was soft and touching him! Touching his back when he needed to grab his wand off the table! How dare he! 

Draco realized that Harry was still talking as colors swarmed his vision. 

"- I never thought that I could do that, and talk to some one about the war, or about myself, or about anything other than fucking quidditch! But I did, and I love you and I care about you, and you've been asking for more affection lately and I-" he took a second to gulp down air and swallow, rubbing the back of his neck and his scar simultaneously. 

"I- it just- it makes me uncomfortable, because I- you know about my childhood, and everything-" he swatted away nonexistent nargles. 

"I'm just not okay with it, not right now." 

Draco fought his eyes' swelling. He breathed, hard, through his nose, feeling the flush and sting of it. 

"I am going to leave now." 

"No!" Harry leaped away from the stove, catching his shoulder as Draco continued to grab his cloak. 

"Why not?"

"Because I- we need to talk about this."

"I thought you just did. You don't want affection. That is what I need. We can no longer fulfill each other's needs, so I am leaving." Draco bent to pick up his wand. Harry seemed at a loss. 

"But- I-" Harry clamped down on his arm, as Draco clutched the want. Draco twisted in his grip, wresting his arm free, briefly.

"Goodbye." He steeled himself to apparate away to a nearby pond to think. That would do it. Think. Evaluate his life. Make a checklist, and cry about it. So fucking much. Until he couldn't. Maybe stay at his mother's. But, he couldn't tell her anything of course. She doesn't know about his whole "falling in love" debacle. Though it is likely she has some idea of it. Maybe not his mothers. 

But before he could apparate, Harry clamped back on again, looked him in the eyes, again. 

"You bloody fucking- you could have splinched yourself, you-" Draco felt the sting grow stronger, and he managed to pull away, rushing to Harry's bedroom. "Why Harry's, dammit," he thought. He closed the door, locking it before Harry could follow. He drew himself upward, in an effort to maintain some semblance of dignity, then gave it up and slid to the floor. Great. How fucking dramatic. 

Harry banged on the door above him "Draco, you- please open the door" he finished quietly. "I want to talk to you."

"Really? Do you" he replied. 

"Yes." 

"Doesn't seem much like it, does it."

"I do, though, I'm just bad at-" Draco could practically see him gesticulating, despite the slab of wood dividing them. 

"Words! I'm bad at words! At wording. Okay?" 

Draco laughed, despite himself, and clicked the lock open, using his weight to twist the knob and draw the door open.

"Thank you, I- Are you on the floor?" Harry's mouth gaped, slightly. 

"Clearly." 

Harry sat down on the bed across from him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Draco cleared his throat. "It's not your fault."

"I mean- it- yeah. No. It's not, but I'm kind of being- never mind." Draco peered up at him. He hated the feeling of being so small on the ground, but couldn't bring himself to get up. Bad knees. Or whatever. 

"I-" he croaked out. "I just. It has taken me so long to be okay with this, and us, and my body, my body especially. I- I knew that I was pretty." He scowled. "I knew that, but, I never imagined that anyone could ever stomach- why is this so hard-" he cut himself off and focused again. 

"I didn't think anyone could stomach touching me. And, I know, it's just bullshit I tell myself, but I do. I still, I, fucking tell myself that. And you." 

He found the strength in the back of his neck to look at Harry. With his fucking eyes. Looking back at him, as if he wasn't afraid like Draco was. 

"You didn't mind it. Touching me. Even when I did. Mind." His eyes stung and he knew that Harry could see, from his concerned face. He'd only seen Draco cry twice before, once in the bathroom, that fucking bathroom, then once when Draco lost his first job out of school. It was a shit job, but it was important to him. Harry had just fumbled for his hand, trying to joke it off. He knew that him crying made Harry uncomfortable, but he needed to this time, damn it. 

"I-" the tears fell, and his vision blurred, and he knew he couldn't go back to the way things were. Dancing around, saying they cared for each other, that they loved each other, without having that tiny bit of something else, something beyond drinking beers at the pub and watching terrible muggle television. He wanted to touch Harry so badly right now. 

It was as if Harry read his mind. He might have, if Draco was being honest. Fucking prat. 

Harry had scooped up one of his five blankets from the bed, and shrouded Draco in it. To calm him down. And then, to make matters worse, he laid on top of it. Providing warmth and security. But not fucking touching him. Draco relaxed into the embrace before realizing. He still wasn't touching him. He'd put up a wall between the two of them. And couldn't stomach touching him. 

He tore his was out from the embrace, the blanket, the bedroom, into the hall, into the living room. 

"You can't do it. Can you. You can't."

Harry, trying to catch up with him, dug for words. "What- I- What do you mean?"

"You still can't touch me. I make you sick. The thought of having to touch me, my body, makes you sick."

"No! I-" 

"Tell me the truth. For fucking once. What do I mean to you? What does this mean? Can you fucking touch me?"

Harry couldn't make speech. 

"You offer me fucking breadcrumbs of affection, to, to fill some kind of. Hole, in yourself. A place where you feel obligated, and ashamed, and guilty, and you fucking pity me, and you touch me to offer your pity, and say you're 'sorry, that no one else in the world can offer you this,' and I've fucking clawed my way out of hell to feel okay about myself, and to feel like, 'hey, maybe some one else can stomach fucking touching me,' but no. That was to much to ask for. Or expect. You only do it because you pity me."

"No. I don- I don't touch you because I pity you, I-"

"Stop lying to yourself, Harry, please, I don't mean anything to you."

"No, I care about you."

"Really? You do? Then prove it." Draco shouted, feeling his blood move inside his limbs. 

"What? How?"

"Prove it."

"What? I-"

"You don't touch me because you want to, you just feel like you have to."

"No, I- I do touch you because I want to."

"No."

"Yes, I do."

Draco took another step back, closer to the door.

"Prove it. Touch me because you want to."

"I-"

"Do it."

Harry didn't move.

"You can't."

Draco turned and opened the door, greeted by an unpleasantly sunny day. Harry grabbed both of his arms this time. He tried to look Draco in the eye, but Draco avoided his gaze. Harry had had enough. He felt his insides turn inside out, and he felt as though he was watching himself, then thrust back into his own body. This whole conversation, argument, had felt hazy and muddy, like a lamppost in the rain. But now he could see every pore and taste every tooth as his world fixated into sharp focus on the lines of Draco's eyelashes, and he leaned in. 

Draco felt the kiss with a lack of decorum and technique, land on his mouth. Clumsy and big, like Harry's words. Voracious and desperate to be heard. Harry's brow was knotted, the lines of his hands and arms were taut and strewn about Draco's body, grasping at his shirt. Draco returned the favor, pulling his mouth in alignment and Harry's head closer, pulling his hands into his body. It had been so long since Draco had kissed anyone. He had never wanted to admit he was saving himself for Harry, that sounded far too prudish and school-like. But he was, unwillingly. And now he had him. He would not have let go for anything. 

They walked each other back to the couch. Harry laid down, pulling Draco along.

"Wait." Draco said, tugging Harry's hand off of his side. 

"Harry, are you uncomfortable?" 

"No- I- I just." He blushed, quickly and fully. "I was embarrassed and sure that you didn't want me in the same way I wanted you, and I-"

"Absolutely not."

The kettle whistled. Harry swore quietly, and Draco tried his best to conceal a small laugh. Draco helped him up from the couch, and took the kettle off. Harry, instead of making tea, kissed him again, pushing him against the cabinets, not too lightly. Draco pushed back, and pulled Harry into him. 

"Well," Harry said, pulling off Draco's lips. He looked downward, then continued.

"There were a few hints, but you always seemed uncomfortable with me touching you, and then I was uncomfortable touching you because it didn't seem like you wanted to."

"I wanted to." Draco said, plainly looking at Harry's lips. He pushed him back to the living room, onto the couch, tea forgotten.

I mean," Draco looked down at their bodies on the couch together, rolling into one another. "Obviously. But I- wasn't okay touching you because I wanted more than what I had. And I wasn't ready to admit that to myself yet, I mean, I didn't realize I was gay until recently, and I. I wanted to so badly, but." Draco put one of his legs between Harry's.

"Is this okay, for you?"

"Yeah," Harry said, coughed briefly, "yeah. I mean, if you're okay with- that. 

"I wasn't ready to confront the part of myself that wanted something other than books. And work. And to be accepted. I wanted to kiss you and touch you, but I didn't want to jeopardize my one good friendship." Draco kissed him, briefly, on his lips. The lips that he had imagined kissing so many times. He savored however many seconds or years it lasted. 

"You and Hermione have been getting along fine. That's also a friendship."

"Not what I meant, Harry."

"Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes, Harry, please, for the love of everything, kiss me again. Hard." Harry looked a bit taken aback by the sudden forwardness, then set his face into the familiar Gryffindor determination.

He leaned in, tentative at first. He pressed up against Draco's lips, and Draco felt that rush of everything settling into his bones, and he pressed down. Twisted lips and too much saliva and touching his hair, neck, waist. He pushed his weight up away from Harry, and he paused before pressing a kiss into Harry's neck. Harry exhaled through his mouth, heavily. Draco did it again. And again. Harry pulled him back up to his face, want in his eyes flashing darkly. Draco wanted to touch more. 

"What do you want me to do?" 

"Fuck, erm, I- I want you to. Grind against me. If that's okay."

"Yes."

Draco shifted his weight down and felt a stripe of pleasure run up from his stomach to his chest. Harry groaned aloud, and Draco felt his cock underneath his trousers. 

"Would you like me to touch you?"

"Yes," Harry gasped a bit, "yeah."

Draco put his hand over Harry's trousers and gripped the outline, pressing into the head. 

"Fuck, under the, under the pants."

Harry trembled a bit as he unbuttoned himself, gritting his teeth and feeling foolish. Draco kissed him again, and Harry melted into the newfound embrace, glad for the comfort and sweetness. 

Draco pulled the waistband enough to leave a small gap, and traced his fingers along the coarse hair leading downward. Harry was shaking, slightly.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, pulling his hand away. 

"Yeah! No, yeah, I- I'm fine, I'm just, nervous, and a bit out of practice. So I might, erm, come a bit early." Harry looked a bit surprised at his own words, and let his head fall back against the cushions.

"And I am very embarrassed. Now."

"No, it's okay." Draco tried. "I want to make you feel good. That's all. If it's too much right now, we can stop."

"Okay. No, I-" Harry looked back up at him. 

"I want you to make me feel good."

Draco felt his blood pool and arousal spike. 

"Tell me what to do," he said.

Harry grabbed his hand and guided it underneath his waistband again. Draco felt the warm and soft flesh slowly give way to skin and hardness and then Harry pressed his hand around his cock and oh, God, this was happening, and it was strange, and it felt hot and sweaty and intimate. 

He pressed a bit and Harry exhaled "stroke it, please, and go a bit- yeah, like that- faster" and he moaned and thrust his hips upward to catch more pressure and more friction. Draco pressed himself against Harry's leg and did as he said, pressing and pulling more quickly. 

"Wait, kiss me, please, I-" 

Draco leaned down and kissed him and they were that much closer and with his other hand he touched Harry's stomach and felt the softness and stroked at the same time and it was a lot, and his hands both snagged on his thoughts and fell out of rhythm, but he kissed Harry deeper. And he felt his warm mouth and tongue. And they were so nice and beautiful, just like the rest of him, and he wanted to touch more, he began to stroke again, and Harry said faster, so he went a bit faster, pressing harder onto his mouth, a bit too hard, so Harry pulled away from his mouth, and began to kiss his neck. And oh, that felt so good, and Harry gently touched his trousers, and they were tenting, and goodness, that was embarrassing, but he broke away from Harry and his touch to bring Harry's hand down into his clothing and onto his cock. 

And Harry touched him. 

And he tongued at his neck. 

They were so close, now, and Harry was letting him touch his neck, stomach, side, spine, leaning into him, and he touched underneath Harry's cock, fondling him, and pressing, and pulling on him, and Harry had his mouth on his neck, and Harry was moaning right next to his ear, and kissing his hair, oh God, his hair, and coming. He was coming, and breathing into Harry's ear, and easing Draco's hand away. Harry had already come, and wasn't that embarrassing that Draco hadn't noticed.

And they kissed, and they were sweaty, sticky, and hot, and Draco could feel every sinew and tremor. 

Harry laughed a bit, and said, "what took us so long?" 

Draco couldn't help it. He laughed and laughed, showering Harry in kisses the way he had always wanted to. But when he daydreamed, he was perfect at it, landing every one exactly where intended. However, in reality, he missed and kissed Harry on the corner of his mouth instead. Harry looked up through drowsy eyes, and crashed into him, gently. He fit his lips against Draco's sliding and laughing against them. Draco felt his hands. And his arms, and his arm hair, pressing into his ribs a bit too hard. He felt his own breath expand and contract. Harry's too. 

Draco felt Harry's body, and also his own. 

His body was here, and now. 

Human.


End file.
